Heartbeats Fast
by bondageluvr
Summary: When Arthur, the Once and Future King, and Merlin, his lowly manservant, agreed to a night of pleasure, they did not expect to be walked in on. They also did not expect the ramifications that night would have on their futures. M for a reason. Merthur. Marriage fic.
1. Chapter 1

Soft moans echoed through the King's quarters, mixing with the occasional sound of footsteps pacing down the stone corridor or the courtyard below. Fingers fumbled for control, pressing into pale flesh, and muscles tensed and relaxed in a steady rhythm. The quiet machinations did nothing to disturb the silence of the room — there were guards right outside the door, and the couple in question could not afford to get caught. It was the first time something like this had ever happened, and both were determined to make it last, as there would probably be no opportunity for a repeat performance.

Finally, a louder groan tore off the lips of the King and he collapsed, spent, on top of the other man, stroking him lazily to completion without pulling out. In mere moments, his partner was straining to muffle his own moans of pleasure, finally finding silence in the King's collarbone.

"That was..." The King made an abstract gesture to indicate just how much the proceedings had been to his liking. He pulled out carefully and lay flat on his back next to his lover, panting. He turned his head to take in the other man's gasping profile. "Where did you learn how to do that thing?"

"Which... thing?" His partner breathed out heavily, a strange euphoric giggle bubbling at the base of his throat.

"Don't play coy with me, you know perfectly well which _thing_ I'm referring to. That_ thing _with your _tongue_." The King hated cheek, especially when it came from the man that was currently heaving on his bedspread. "That _thing_ that I'm quite sure nobody in Camelot would ever dare try."

His lover let out a quiet laugh:

"Nobody in Camelot, yes. Us village boys, we're not so proper like you people are. Imagine etiquette in _bed_! We know what we want and how to get it so we do it," he replied with a smile on his face. Turning to the side, he propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at the King's face. The escapade had been good for both of them, he decided. The King's boyish face had been marred with wrinkles and frowns that had no place on a visage so young, and now his skin had smoothened out to show just how young he was. How young both of them were.

"Well, I always told you that you were incapable of even the most menial of tasks but this, hah, I never thought a day would come when I'd say it but you do have a talent or two."

"That is perhaps the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Sire."

"Nonsense. I say nice things to you all the time."

"Oh, really?" The other man sat up, looking down at the King with a mock-thoughtful expression. "What was the latest compliment you paid me? I believe it was, 'you stink like a pig and you look like a raccoon, get out of my chambers and stay out until you've had a bath, you bumbling buffoon.' Yes, quite a _nice_ thing to say to someone who's doing his very best to make sure you run the kingdom smoothly."

"You make it sound like you're the one who makes all the decisions."

"What do you think? The kingdom is its people, Sire. Gwen and I pull all the strings, you are just our puppet," the servant replied with a smirk on his face before receiving a cuff around the head. In response to the light violence, he just chuckled and settled into the warm sheets. "Your bed is amazing. Why have I never tried it before?"

"My bed? So that's the only reason you're here?" The King questioned, giving his lover an exaggerated pout. It looked completely ridiculous on the face of the Once and Future King and his lover let out a bark of laughter, albeit quietly, knowing that the stone walls and wooden doors were not exactly soundproof.

"Oh, don't you start with the puppy eyes, those only work on the foreign ladies that are so taken with your five-year-old personality. I know you far too well." The servant gave his sovereign a once-over, one eyebrow raised. "Well, I suppose the content of the bed is not too bad either."

"Not too bad?" The King scoffed. "I'll have you know I've never had any complaints, i_n fact_, I have been told by many that I was the most skillful lover in all of the Five Kingdoms."

"Oh yes, King Arthur of Camelot, the love-them-and-leave-them harlot with eyes of blue and a soul of ice. Right."

"You doubt me?"

"I know you don't live up to the hype."

"That's it! You either take it back or I will have you flogged. Better yet, I'll do the flogging myself!"

"Go ahead."

"You—," The King's eyes widened comically. "Who would have known, our very own Merlin, a glutton for punishment."

"Only if it comes by your hand, Sire," the young man replied and pressed his lips to the King's bare shoulder before getting up and over the side of the bed to fetch a moist cloth for them to clean up with. It wouldn't do for the King of Camelot to spend all night sleeping with another man's semen drying on his stomach. Making quick work of the cloth, Merlin came back to bed and pressed it to the heated flesh of Arthur's abdomen, making the other man tense his muscles instinctively.

"Cold."

"No, it's not. Don't be such a ninny. And even if it is, some of us have to survive all our lives with only cold water for bathing," Merlin pointed out, drawing elaborate designs on his King's skin with the wet towel. Satisfied with his job, he carelessly dropped the fabric into the basin that stood next to the bedside table and settled back onto the sheets.

Before the silence got too awkward, Arthur swooped in and kissed him on the lips soundly.

* * *

"Oh, oh, oh _goddess_, that feels–,"

"If you... don't... hold... your tongue... Mer... lin... I. Will. Stop," Arthur gritted out, punctuating each word with a hard thrust of his hips that made Merlin keen and throw his head back in pleasure. The young man, though shy and slightly _dumb_, according to Arthur himself, in real life, had a completely different personality in bed – there was something about the way he sometimes took control, not directly, but by enticing Arthur and molding his actions to his will, that Arthur just couldn't quite put his finger on. It was as if Merlin was skilled in subtlety, yet the King knew for a fact that this particular statement couldn't be farther from the truth.

"No... you... wont," Merlin answered and clenched down, sending Arthur into a frenzy and eliciting a stream of curses from his royal lips. "My, such... language... Wonder what... tutors would... say."

Arthur's mouth broadened into a smile and he was about to start laughing when the door burst open.

"Your Highness–, Oh!" The servant girl stood rooted to the spot, unable to move or look away from the scene presented in front of her – namely, the King, bare naked, with his member buried deep within a servant boy. Merlin groaned. This was not happening.

"What the _hell _are you doing here, without knocking, no less?" Arthur hissed, withdrawing from Merlin's body sharply and making him wince in discomfort.

"The question is, Arthur, what _you _seem to be doing," another voice echoed through the chambers and Arthur's blood froze.

"Uncle."

"Nephew." The lord strode into the room, completely unabashed by his King's nakedness and the quivering form on the bed behind Arthur. "Would you care to explain what this is?"

"I, um... We... Why should I explain anything to you? I am the King, after all," Arthur answered indignantly though stumbling over his words. This was not good in any way.

His uncle raised an amused eyebrow.

* * *

"The servant boy and Arthur, in bed, _together_?" Morgana's cackle echoed through the darkened forest, adding a more sinister quality to the setting. She herself was twitching as if she were about to break into a gleeful dance. "This is _excellent _news!"

"How so, my Lady?" Agravaine asked curiously, watching the witch blossom into cheerfulness right before his own eyes. It had been months since he'd last seen the woman's more happy disposition and, as any infatuated man, it pleased him greatly that he had been the bearer of such joyous news to his future Queen.

"Can't you _see_, Agravaine?" Morgana asked gleefully, her eyes blazing golden for a second. "The King's authority is only as strong as the people's trust in him. Imagine what the ordinary folk, or better yet, what the council and the knights will say when they find out that he has been caught in bed with his lowly servant?"

A smile split Agravaine's face.

"I trust you understand what your role in this will be, Agravaine?" The witch questioned, watching the man intently.

"Oh course, my Lady."

"By dawn, all of Camelot will know of the King's little escapade."

* * *

Arthur was starkly aware of the whispers that followed him down the hallway from his quarters to the great hall. Servants seemed to disappear into thin air when he walked their way yet his ears picked up the quiet murmurs that seemed to pursue him every step of the way. He gave a nervous chambermaid a stern look and she squealed frightfully before giving him a small smirk and slipping off into one of the side corridors. Arthur's eyebrows went up to his hairline. How _dare _that girl...?

The Knights all seemed to go dead quiet in their conversation when Arthur strode in. A guilty expression, one and the same, appeared on all of their faces as he ignored them, walking towards his throne. Gaius, who stood a bit off the side of the hall, averted his eyes, although Arthur could see that his back was tense. After all, Merlin was like a son to the man, and the King could imagine the physician being just a little bit more than upset for Arthur's ministrations on his ward.

Agravaine stood next to his throne, his face betraying nothing of what he was thinking. He managed to hiss a soft greeting to Arthur, his jaw working furiously.

"Please don't stop on my account," Arthur said to the Knights, watching them impassively as he leaned back against the soft cushion. The Knights lowered their eyes bashfully and scurried to strike up some sort of half-arsed discussion about attack tactics or something of the sort, which almost made Arthur roll his eyes. These _Knights _were sometimes worse than gossiping women. It was for that reason that Merlin had chosen to slip away in the morning, giving Arthur an apologetic look, and asking him for a day off to do Gaius's work instead. Surprisingly, Arthur had allowed him that one pleasure, maybe because he knew that Merlin would have had to face something much worse than council. Scullery maids and stable boys, all pointing at him with disdain. It was something Arthur always found fascinating – the dynamics among the servants. One could aspire to be a lord or a prince, but if one were to lie with someone of the higher ranks, they would forever be condemned to unfavorable name-calling and stigma among those of his own standing. _Know you place_, they would say.

"Leon, what is on the agenda for this morning? Please try to formulate actual sentences," Arthur ordered cooly, watching the knight scramble for words.

"Lord Neirys has asked for troops, sir. To defend his land from bandits," Leon replied, looking anywhere else but at the King.

"Nonsense. Lord Neirys has a better army than most of the landowners in the Five Kingdoms, therefore I fail to see why he would need us to save his overfed bottom form hoodlums," Arthur dismissed, noting how some of the men in the room cringed at the word 'bottom.' Wonderful, he said to himself, wanting to bang his head against the wall for such word choice. In the given situation, he would have to be careful.

"Anything else? I assume there is a reason for such a gathering when most of you would more likely want to be in the tavern on a Friday," the King said, trying to watch every guilty face in the room.

"Sire, there is the matter of _extreme _delicacy that–,"

"What matter?"

"As I said, sire, the matter is very _delicate_–,"

"Yes, what is it?" Arthur was starting to enjoy the redness of Leon's face when his uncle's voice boomed behind his back:

"The matter of you having been _seen _bedding a servant, my Lord."

The hall went dead-silent.

"Yes, what of it?" Arthur asked, taking a sip of wine from his cup, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible though on the inside he was seething with righteous anger. If his uncle had taken the liberty of saying what had occurred so directly, it meant that everyone in the Kingdom was well aware of his and Merlin's... _whatever it was. _

"People are talking, Sire. They are questioning whether you are fit to be King." Agravaine drew a breath, and it almost looked to Arthur for a second that he was relishing the words that were about to fall from his lips. "After all, they all remember your _attachment _to Guinevere, I believe her name was? _And _they have noted how close you are to your servant. You are expected to marry royalty, my Lord. Not bed servant boys from faraway villages."

Arthur clenched his teeth:

"What I do in private is none of the people's concern."

"Forgive me, my Lord, but that is not quite the case. You are King, and with you, the personal is the public. You are to set an example for your people, and how can you do that with such _indiscretions _on your record?"

"I fail to see how my _indiscretions _make me unfit as a ruler."

"They don't make you unfit was a ruler, per se, my Lord. But your authority might be undermined. You do not appear trustworthy to them. You appear as a... How shall I put it mildly? A stable-robber."

"A _what_?"

"A stable-robber, my Lord. You take innocent boys from the stables and bed them."

"I do no such thing!"

"The public doesn't know that, my Lord. As far as they are concerned, this Merlin fellow is not the first and he won't be the last."

Arthur buried his face into his hand.

"What are you saying, Agravaine?"

"You are no longer an honest man in their eyes, and to the simple folk, honesty is one of the virtues a King must possess."

Arthur groaned. That _thing _with Merlin was but a momentary weakness fueled by many years of unresolved, _very _palpable, sexual tension. They had both agreed it would be a one-time tryst and that neither of them would walk away unsatisfied or upset in the morning. Now, suddenly, it looked like what had transpired had a lot more room for regret than they had initially thought.

Suddenly, the hallway doors opened and a guard ran in, a panicked expression frozen on his face.

"How _dare _you walk in on a council meeting without knocking?" Agravaine fumed on the behalf of the King, who simply sat, dumb-struck, in his chair, trying to mull over the possibilities of softening the mess they had gotten into.

"Mass fight, in the courtyard, sir! Forgive me, but–," He eyed Arthur warily. "Sire, your manservant, it's twenty on one, they are vicious and–,"

Seconds later, Arthur was out of the throne and halfway down the hall, sword at the ready, seething.

* * *

"What is this?"

The squabble stopped at once and the crowd froze before parting, leaving Arthur with a pitiful sight to behold: Merlin, lying on the dusty paving of the courtyard, shielding his head with his hands, his back shaking with pained sobs. The young man's clothing was ripped in several places and there was blood on his knuckles from what Arthur could see.

"I repeat, _what is this_?" Arthur asked angrily, watching the crowd suddenly dissipate.

One of the men stepped forward and the King was flummoxed to recognize a Camelot guardsman.

"Sorry for disturbing your meeting, m'Lord, we were just teaching the servant boy a lesson." He bowed.

"A lesson? And what lesson would you have to teach my manservant?" Arthur asked, walking towards Merlin's crumpled form on the ground and bending one knee to lower himself. He put a hand on Merlin's back and it pained him to see the way the other man shied away from the touch.

The crowd mumbled something unintelligible, something along the lines of 'thinks he's better than us' and 'regular whore.' Arthur closed his eyes and exhaled, calming himself.

"What right have you to judge a person's actions?" He asked.

"And why does the King care so much?" A voice asked from beyond the crowd. The crowd was too dense for Arthur to see who it had been.

"Why shouldn't the King care?" Arthur asked. Then, a brilliant idea struck his mind. "When the person in question is his betrothed?"

Silence fell once more.

Maybe not so brilliant after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes: **

Hey guys, I am on a roll. Here's chapter two for you.

Completely un-beta-ed and featuring a probably very inaccurate hand-fasting ceremony but, um, I'm the author, and this fic is my oyster. So, you know. Whatever.

Review? Favorite?

* * *

When Merlin came to, it was step-by-step, as if he were almost floating out of the unconsciousness, with invisible wings pushing him out and through the surface of his sticky mind. The first thing he noted was the softness of the bed he had been reclining on – and there was only one bed as soft as _this_. When he managed to pry his tired, hurting eyes open it was to see a great gathering of people all standing over him with concerned facial expressions. The closest one to him belonged to Gaius, and it lit up instantly upon seeing Merlin's pupils contract as unforgiving light seeped into them. Merlin though he'd managed a quite good smile to indicate that he was all right, before another face swam into view, and this one carried a look of both concern and badly-hidden distress.

"Arthur," Merlin croaked, willing his fingers to reach out and touched but only getting a little, pathetic twitch out of his worn muscles. The King was instantly at his side, much closer than Gaius and Merlin could tell by the way the mattress dipped under his weight that he was very close. The King took the young man's hand into his own and stroked it almost _affectionately _– Merlin's brows furrowed, – and leaned in as if he were about to kiss him square on the lips. As it was, when the King's mouth reached his face, he strayed off the path and instead whispered in his ear urgently.

"Just go with it, I'll explain later." Then, slightly louder, he proclaimed: "I was so worried, Merlin, I can't believe they _dared _touch you. I had them flogged, all of them."

There was a stir in the mass of faces behind Merlin's trusted King and tutor and the ladies-in-waiting let out something akin to a "aw" of admiration. The kind of "aw" that they let out when a handsome knight took his armor off after practice, flexing his muscles for all the women of the court to marvel at. Also the kind of "aw" that the ladies squealed out when they saw a newborn child or a particularly furry kitten. Merlin found that "aw" annoying. What he also found annoying was the fact that something strange was clearly happening, and he was completely unaware of _what it was_.

"I'm... sorry to have worried you so, My Lord?" He said, a question at the end of the sentence. Arthur, completely unaffected by Merlin's lack of understanding, carried on his ramblings about how horrified he was with the servants' actions and how a Guardsman of Camelot could never be allowed to get away with such impudent, undignified behavior. That much was true, Merlin supposed, his joins aching even in stillness, as he remembered the punches that had been thrown his way by men and women, guards and servants alike when the rumor reached its peak. Granted, it wasn't just a rumor but _why _did they have to be so skilled in attacking scrawny manservants?

"It's all right, Merlin, you're not at fault, my love." Merlin's eyebrow shot up and he winced at the way it made the skin on his forehead sting._ So they got me there too,_ he thought to himself. Arthur stroked the broken skin with his very fingertips almost adoringly and then turned to the rest of the crowd that had gathered to see the display.

"Merlin needs to rest. All of you, out."

The reluctant crowd started shuffling out the door, unwilling to return to their duties after such an _interesting _show. Merlin wanted to roll his eyes – he sometimes felt like he was the only one who actually worked in the castle. Gaius nodded at him once and walked out, giving Arthur a formal bow.

When the door behind him closed, Merlin instantly tried to raise himself by his elbows but failed, groaning out in pain.

"Care to explain what _the hell _just happened, Sire?" He asked mockingly, almost enjoying the way Arthur's face turned into a grimace of distaste. The hands that had held his disappeared and the King took off from his bedside and started to pace his chambers irritatedly.

"I might have said something stupid that has turned our little situation into a bigger farce than it was," he replied.

"Care to disclose more?" Merlin prompted tiredly.

"The court is under the impression that you and I are betrothed to be married."

Oh. _Oh. _Well that explains it, Merlin supposed, his headache suddenly becoming unbearable.

"And what, pray tell, gave them that impression?" He asked, fighting the urge to collapse the ceiling onto Arthur's clotpole head.

"I might... said it to the court, for everyone to hear," Arthur mumbled before turning to Merlin. "They could have killed you then and there, you know."

"I think they'll want to kill me even more now that you've... I suppose you consider what you've done _saving _me?" Merlin said testily. His muscles were humming with pain yet he really wanted to be out of that damned bed and on the opposite side of the castle. "You know that the servants don't take lightly to _betrayal_."

"I know that, Merlin, but at least now, as my... _promised_," Arthur's face contorted at the word, "you have the protection of the knights of Camelot."

"At least until they find out it's all a hoax," Merlin replied warily. "They _will _find out it's a hoax, right?"

An uneasy pause stretched between them.

"Er, strictly speaking, a public proclamation like that is not to be taken lightly..." Arthur trailed off, rushing to Merlin's side when the other man's face went ashen. "They believe I am to take you to the altar and to be wed to you for a year and a day."

"What?"

"Um, hand-fasting. You know, when two people stand before the minister and–,"

"_I know what hand-fasting is!_" Merlin said hotly, trying to slip further away from his King to the other side of the ridiculously humongous bed. "What I don't know is why I am supposed to be hand-fasted to you, the biggest clotpole to ever rule Camelot."

"Hey!" Arthur took offense at the statement. "That's King Arthur to you, Merlin, and if you don't hold your tongue–,"

"What? You'll beat me within an inch of death?" Merlin challenged. "Won't be much left to do for you, then."

Arthur sighed. He sat back down onto the bed and watched the cogs turn in Merlin's head as he tried to make sense of the new information.

"It's only for a year. And it's useful, for both you and I. You will gain protection and a consort's status and in turn, my people will stop believing me to be a stable-robber."

"A _what_?"

"A stable-robber. It's what they apparently call when a noble beds stable boys."

"A vile term."

"Coined by Agravaine."

"Ah."

They sunk into awkward silence.

"Fine," Merlin finally said, gauging Arthur's reaction. "As long as I don't have to wear that stupid hat again. And _only _for a year."

"You think I would desire to be married to you for longer?" Arthur scoffed, although something stabbed at his chest as long as the words were out. "You won't have to wear the hat. That was for servants. Instead, you will have to wear cottons and silks sewn by the royal tailor."

"The itchy kind?" Merlin asked, horrified.

"The itchy kind," Arthur answered solemnly. "And follow etiquette. And, as my consort, you would have to be knowledgeable in politics and skilled in entertainment."

"Entertainment?"

"Well, my foreign guests would expect a royal welcome and good conversation," Arthur replied smoothly, making Merlin groan. "Oh, don't give me that look. You know, you could have been dead."

"I don't know what's worse." Merlin sighed. "I suppose the marriage would have to be consummated as well?"

"Well, we haven't had trouble in that department at least," Arthur deadpanned.

"That _department _was what got us into this whole mess in the first place," Merlin countered, the bruises on his skin aching. "I don't suppose we can back out of this?"

"Of course not! They wouldn't think me dishonest," Arthur answered indignantly. Suddenly, a guilty expression passed over his features.

"All the preparations have already been made. They are just waiting for you to be well enough to go through with the ceremony."

* * *

"I can't believe this," Merlin hissed to Arthur as they both got ready for the hand-fasting ceremony. Well, Merlin was the one who had to dress them both as Arthur had pointedly relieved his other servants of their duty for the day. His fingers still aching from the encounter with the servants, Merlin fumbled with the fine buttons on his ridiculous wedding robes before doing the same for Arthur, who stood, slouching, in front of the mirror. He cast a look at the two of them and then smirked at Merlin.

"You have to admit, we look quite good together."

"Oh shut up, you clotpole," Merlin replied, struggling to breathe in his stifling robes. The previous week had taken a toll on his sanity, of that he was sure, as everyone's attitude to him had changed after Arthur's little announcement. The servants that had pointed fingers at him on the first day actually bowed and curtsied, Gaius seemed perpetually upset with the proceedings – Arthur hadn't allowed Merlin to tell him the truth, – and never missed an opportunity to question Merlin's motives ("I wonder why," Arthur had said, making Merlin choke on his dinner, guffawing wildly), Agravaine looked like Beltane had been cancelled for all eternity and the knights just seemed very uneasy around him even though he tried to act as if nothing had changed between them. Merlin cursed that Arthur had single-handedly ruined all of his relationships (although he didn't mind losing Agravaine).

Despite what he had said, Merlin straightened his back and gave himself a once-over in the mirror. The person that stood in his place had been washed, scrubbed, trimmed, shaved and clothed within an inch of his life; his face had never been so clean before, he was sure, and he could still feel the sting of the sponge from when the massive maid named _Grimhilda _seemed to take off at least several layers of the skin off his cheeks. The dirt had been picked out from under his fingernails, his ears had been thoroughly washed inside and out (to his protests, the maid just growled: "Can't get any worse"), and his clothes had all been taken out and burnt at the pyre. He was now the proud owner of several vests and pairs of breeches, shirts and tunics, chausses and fibulas; and even his very own tailored (or cast, he supposed) chainmail. He had been given a horse, a lovely creature named Beatrix, and a personal servant, who wasn't as lovely as the horse, named Ulric. Ulric was worse than George in many ways. Instead of insisting on Merlin getting up and having breakfast, he lifted him up in his arms and carried him to the table like a child, all the while crooning to him his schedule for the day. Needless to say, Merlin had been very happy when Grimhilda was the one who bathed him.

"You know, you do look much better clean," Arthur pointed out, watching Merlin mull over his last few days. "Still too scrawny, though."

"Not my fault I don't eat much because someone likes to send me on errands all day, every day, every hour," Merlin replied snippily. He was not in the mood for small talk.

"Well, that will change, at least for the time that we're married," Arthur said quietly. "We have servants to do everything for us, you know."

"Oh, I _know_," Merlin said indignantly, stepping away from the King as if he were the foulest thing on earth, including the wyvern. "I was one, remember?"

* * *

The great hall fell into a hush when King Arthur stepped through the wooden doors and onto the carpet that had been laid out especially for the occasion. His mouth twitching in irritation, he made his was down the aisle as regally as he could to take his place at the dais where now two thrones stood, one a bit smaller than the other. Geoffrey was already there, waiting with his ancient rite tome clasped in his sweaty little hand – his hands were definitely too small for a man his size, Arthur noted, – and Arthur managed to give him an authoritative nod as he stood in front of his people, most of whom still looked disbelieving of the proceedings, at the very least.

The doors opened once more and a figure stepped inside, sending the hushed crowed into a frenzy of whispers. While the King's appearance had been expected, most had been skeptical about whether the other _groom _would show up.

There he was, though. Merlin struggled not to fidget with the cuffs of his royal dress as he stepped down the aisle and towards what looked like the only familiar face – Arthur's. His hear threatening to jump right up his throat, Merlin walked slowly, solemnly, as he'd been taught to, unaware of the murmurs of admiration and almost-silent disbelief that followed his procession.

His light blue robes – for _purity_, apparently, Merlin had snorted at that one, – hung loosely around his shoulders, only allowing a small glimpse at the fine cotton tunic of the deepest cyan underneath. He had politely refused the garter Ulric had tried to press into his hands, holding back his magic so it wouldn't enchant the man to choke on his own lungs. The fabric was gathered and pinned at one of his shoulders with a white jasper brooch (for _gentleness_, Merlin had laughed in Ulric's face at that one as well), and two identical sapphire bracelets dangled off his skinny wrists (like shackles, he'd noted humorlessly). His skin was clear and clean, with nothing betraying the fact that he'd been beaten severely some days ago – Gaius had made a salve, and he had cast a spell, – and his hair had been combed back and trimmed to the latest court fashion.

Overall, Merlin felt ridiculous.

Yet as he finally stepped up the dais and allowed himself to look at the gathered lot, he found some faces were stricken with surprise – as if they hadn't expected a mere servant to be able to clean up this well.

He turned to his King reluctantly and Arthur prompted Geoffrey to begin. The man tugged out a wad of colored ribbons, some cloth, some leather, all relevant to the colors of Arthur's red Pendragon robe or Merlin's blue, and opened the book with a pompously official air. In fact, he seemed like the only person who couldn't care less whether Arthur was marrying a servant or a griffin.

"People of Camelot, we are gathered here to-day to witness the hand-fasting of Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, and Merlin, son of Hunith. By this ceremony, these two will pledge their love and devotion to each other, to be bound for a year and a day, according to the ancient traditions of the rite of hand-fasting. Their union will last as long as they shall both be willing –," Merlin's mouth twitched, "and they shall make their vows of affection known to the world."

He turned to them:

"I will ask you now to clasp your hands."

Merlin felt like a bystander when he felt Arthur take his hand. This was surreal to him, as if he were watching a lucid dream. Nevertheless, the sweaty warmth of Arthur's hand felt like a tether to reality and as his left hand slipped into Arthur's left, and their right hands made contact, he was jolted awake. He looked up to see Arthur watching him anxiously, as if he were about to ask whether Merlin was all right.

"Arthur Pendragon, you shall be the first to recite your oath."

Arthur drew a shaky breath before Merlin saw something settled behind his eyes and his whole demeanor changed. The tension flooded out of his stance and he looked Merlin right in the eyes as he said his vow.

"I, Arthur Pendragon, stand before the people of my Kingdom, and all the Gods of the Old and New Religions, to take you, Merlin, son of Hunith, as my husband. I pledge to you my love and affection. I vow to share your pain and to ease it; to share your pleasure and to give it. I swear to respect you and treat you with care. Your laughter shall be my laughter, and your grief shall be mine. Till we both decide this union to be invalid, I shall cherish you above all and give my all to you, my husband and consort."

Merlin could have sworn he had stopped breathing. Arthur was a very good actor, he thought to himself morosely, as he nearly gaped at the man whose hands rested in his own.

"Merlin, son of Hunith, you shall recite your oath now."

His breathing shallow, Merlin fought the urge to clear his throat and he could have sworn he felt his chest contract when suddenly Arthur squeezed his hands in his grip. He raised his face to look his husband-to-be in the eye and found a small smile playing on the corners of the King's mouth. Of course he would be cocky about rendering me speechless, Merlin thought irritably, and that was enough to break him out of his panicked state.

"I, Merlin, son of Hunith, stand before the people of Camelot, and all the Gods of the Old and New Religions, to take you, Arthur Pendragon, as my husband. I pledge to you my love and loyalty. I vow to take on your burdens as my own, and to give you my joy to share. I swear to protect and guide you to the best of my abilities, and to treat you with respect and awe. I come into this union with love and dignity, and I shall cherish you until the day we deem this union dissolved, as my husband."

Merlin smirked when Arthur fought to keep his facial muscles under control, a laugh threatening to break off his lips. This was ridiculous, they both thought, and yet there they stood, offering up their proverbial hearts to each other in front of the crème of the kingdom.

"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you hand-fasted. You shall seal this union with a kiss, as a symbol of your love."

Merlin let out a surprised whimper when Arthur's lips descended onto his urgently, their bound hands pulling him forward so they were clasped at their chests. Never let it be said that Arthur does things halfway, Merlin supposed, as his mouth was devoured by the King. Gasps and applause resounded through the hall and Merlin thought he even heard a few cheers from the Knights' side.

As they parted, Arthur cheekily tugged on their hands once more to bring Merlin in for a parting peck and Merlin huffed indignantly. Of course. Arthur just had to reassert his masculinity in front of the court. And for that, he would earn a thorough clobbering.

Their hands were untied and the ribbons placed onto a special tray and carried away for storage in the Royal Vaults, and Geoffrey stepped down to let Arthur take the floor. Nerves flooded Merlin's senses again when he was quietly urged to kneel, and he did so with shaky legs as Arthur reached for the delicate circlet placed on the cushion provided by a servant.

"Do you, Merlin Pendragon of Camelot, pledge yourself to the service of the people as royal consort?" He asked steadily, towering over Merlin's hunched form.

"I do," Merlin replied shakily, just only now realizing how much duty he would be taking on. This marriage was a farce, perhaps, but the consort's oath was very, very _real _– he was to be second-in-command to the King, an advisor and a guide to his husband and the people. It scared him. It _terrified _him.

"Do you, Merlin Pendragon of Camelot, agree to abide by the laws and customs of the kingdom?"

Not this would be even worse. He was perhaps the biggest, most terrible criminal out there – he _was _a sorcerer in the time of a magical ban, and he had practiced it on more than one occasion, secretly and openly in the eyes of the select few, but he _had_. Nevertheless, his lips were obedient as the formed the lie.

"I do."

"And do you, Merlin Pendragon of Camelot, swear to care for and guide your people in times of need?"

"I do." Merlin gulped.

"By the sacred power vested in me, I crown you Merlin, the royal consort to the Crown of Camelot," Arthur said with an air of finality and placed the circled onto Merlin's head gently. The younger man found himself being tugged to stand, and within moments his people stood clapping, saluting the King and his new consort. He found it in himself to smile, Arthur's hand a reassuring weight in his own.

"Thank all that's holy this is over," he murmured through half-closed lips as he smiled and waved. Arthur snorted beside him, a public smile of his own plastered all over his face:

"Need I remind you there's also a feast to attend to?"

Merlin's smile slipped a bit and Arthur was left nursing crescent-like indents from where his nails had dug into his King's hand.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes: **This one is a bit shorter but it needed to be done for the next chapter to be more action-packed. Un-beta-ed as usual. Please review and favorite :)

* * *

The wedding feast carried off deep into the nightfall. Dusk soon fell over Camelot, and Merlin found himself looking at the bloody streaks perforating the dusty-blue sky through the windows of the great hall far too many times during the evening. The food was fine, and for once he was not the one pouring and serving. He surprised himself with actually feeling ennui without any work to do. He had never been one for mindless small talk – except for when it had a purpose or when it was needed to entertain a bored Arthur. That was why he never moved further away than an arm's length from his new husband, brushing his elbow against the fine material of the King's ceremonial robes. He supposed he was to feel anxious before their wedding night – Agravaine had made it a point to tell Arthur that there would be men standing outside their chambers, waiting to hear grunts and moans "of ecstasy, which, I'm sure, wouldn't be to difficult to produce for lovebirds such as yourself." Despite that undeniably _creepy _prospect hanging over him like Damocles' sword, Merlin was far from a blushing bride. He knew Arthur and he were compatible. After all, they'd done it before. Not with the whole of Camelot watching, granted, but it was still the same, wasn't it?

The couple was inappropriately quiet for newlyweds, mostly keeping to themselves and their food, answering the odd question courtesy of the advisor or Gaius, who still looked like he'd eaten half a sour lemon in one sitting. Both men were adamant on wheedling out more information from both hand-fasted; Agravaine attempting to catch them in a lie and Gaius trying to lace every word with disproval. It was just as well that Arthur and Merlin knew each other very well; definitely enough to be able not to stumble through these questionings.

Halfway through the second course, Arthur's hand casually slipped to Merlin's forearm, resting there protectively even as he seemed engrossed in a conversation about strategics with Leon half across the table. Merlin's eyebrow shot up at that, yet he said nothing, actually reveling in the affectionate contact. Arthur seemed like the only familiar presence in the vicinity. His attitude towards the black-hair man never changed; as opposed to that of the rest of the court. Disdain that they had shown him before was now veiled; only their curled lips served as a reminder of his place. The Knights, who used to cuff him over the head and engage in horseplay, often knocking the wind out of him, now eyed him with their heads down and backs straight. Gaius's lips were pursed tightly and Agravaine... Well, Merlin supposed, Arthur was not the only thing that had stayed the same. Agravaine still looked at him as though Merlin was something he'd scraped off his shoe.

"Merlin?"

"Hm?" He looked up from his plate to look into Arthur's tired eyes. "What is it, Sire?"

"Took you long enough to call me that, and now you don't even have too. Fitting," Arthur mused, giving Merlin a garish smirk. "This feast has been going on long enough, don't you think?"

Merlin nodded before his eyes widened in realization.

"Do you want to do something outrageous?" Arthur asked quietly, and to the guests it looked as if he were whispering something secretively into the ear of his beloved new consort, a tender smile playing on his lips. After a beat, Merlin nodded once more. There was no harm in trying to have fun in the face of such a gloomy prospect, anyway.

With a flourish, Arthur stood up. Immediately utensils were placed onto the table and cups were put down; everyone was giving the King their undivided attention. Merlin followed Arthur in standing, not as gracefully, of course, but he did manage to keep his back straight and his chin high, feeling ridiculously tall without his usual slouch. Arthur presented his arm to him and, after a moment's hesitation, Merlin took it.

"Thank you all for coming," Arthur began, surveying the guests, some of which were already well into their wine. "I am afraid my husband and I must retire for the night. You are welcome to stay and enjoy the feast until dawn."

As they walked, one by one the guests stood and bowed to them as they walked down the length of the dinner table. Merlin watched as Arthur accepted their bows, some with inclines of his head, and did the same, not knowing where to put himself. The Knights, however, were less formal, as some of them, including Gwaine and Percival actually clapped Arthur on the back as they passed by, mutters of what Merlin assumed to be _manly council _following in their wake. He had to prevent himself from rolling his eyes – _knights_. He just couldn't understand what was so masculine in wielding a sword and trying to knock a person down from their saddle with a lance. But then again, he was just the King's _wife_.

A couple of women from the neighboring kingdoms, princesses and duchesses, also known as the former hopefuls for Arthur's hand, hissed at Merlin venomously behind their charming smiles, and one even tried to tread on his robe. Arthur was about to look appalled with Merlin shrugged it off. Instead, as they were only at the door, his eyes flashed golden and the girl found herself with a very unappetizing wart on an unmentionable part of her body.

As the door closed behind them, Merlin exhaled, the tiredness flooding into every bone of his body. Arthur took his time before letting go of his arm and instead settling for holding his hand as they kept up appearance in front of Camelot's guards, all of which, Arthur knew, answered directly to his uncle. No words were exchanged while the couple walked down the cold corridors of the torch-lit castle.

Once inside Arthur's (and Merlin's now) chambers, the King immediately dropped Merlin's hand and slumped into his chair, his posture the perfect picture of a worn-out man too old for his age. Merlin stood where Arthur had left him, not knowing what to do with himself.

"Well don't just stand there," Arthur said tiredly, his eyes sliding shut. "Sit or something. Whatever you want to do."

Merlin bowed his head and turned to the chest on which a pitcher of wine stood, its silver gleaming in the dim light. With quick, practiced movements, he poured Arthur a goblet of water to soothe his parched throat and placed it in front of the King like he'd done many times before. Having done that, he stood behind Arthur's chair, hands folded.

"Merlin," the King started, his voice trembling dangerously. "What the _hell _are you doing?"

"Doing what I want to do, like you said. You better drink up, all that wine will be unforgiving in the morning," Merlin answered without a pause. Arthur gave him an incredulous look:

"You _are _aware that you're no longer required to do things such as these?"

"I know," Merlin replied. "I just... I don't know what else to do. I don't know how to be a royal."

Arthur laughed merrily:

"Oh, Merlin. You'll never be royalty, don't worry." He snickered. "You're always going to be a clotpole."

"And you'll always be a royal cabbage-head." Merlin grinned.

With that, the awkwardness was broken as they settled into the familiar pattern of friendly banter. Merlin continued providing his new husband with gobletfulls of water while Arthur teased him mercilessly about his _natural subservience_. The ease of conversation was something to marvel at, that was for sure, Merlin mused to himself, as they both knew what needed to happen. But at that moment, they were just two young men trying to enjoy their unusual circumstances and live life to the fullest in the company of the only friends they had – each other.

As the night drew to a close, Merlin watched as the tense tick returned to Arthur's broad shoulders; as their conversation became a bit more strained; as the water and then wine ran dry. With a sigh, the consort stood up and moved to put away the dishes for the servants to retrieve in the morning. He was planning to have a lie-in, unless Arthur came up with another genius idea that would result in riding out at dawn and getting stuck in life-or-death situations.

"What are you doing?" Arthur asked, watching Merlin out of the corner of his eyes as the latter clattered around with the trained dexterity of an experienced servant. _That's what he is, though, _Arthur reminded himself, surveying as Merlin stacked the plates and aligned the goblets onto a silver tray.

"I think we just discussed this a couple of hours ago, husband of mine," Merlin answered with a cheeky grin. "I'm making the servants' job easier because I can and because I want to. We're not all pompous lazybones, you know."

"I'll have you know I take daily runs and training sessions with my knights," Arthur said tersely.

"I know that, Arthur," Merlin reminded him. "I was there all this time."

Arthur nodded slowly.

"For some reason it feels like we just met, Merlin."

"Is that a good or a bad thing?" Merlin asked.

"I don't know." Arthur shrugged, watching Merlin shrug off his festive over-cloak and drape it carefully over the back of a chair. His long-fingered hands folded the fabric with care. Arthur wanted to tell him that the servants would still take the cloak to be washed and pressed, no matter how much care Merlin took, but he did not have the heart; he just realized that he had not been the only one to loose grip of his comfort zone in this marriage.

_Marriage. _It still felt surreal.

"Well, I'm the same old Merlin," his new husband said with a small smile. "I've not changed. The clothes, and the manners, and the fancy talk; that's not me. You know that. Hell, if I had my way, I'd be wearing my neckerchief and jacket right now and I would be the happiest person in the world."

"Are you not happy?" Arthur asked, his words a bit more alarmed than he had intended for them to be. He shook himself. _You ninny._

"I could ask you the same question," Merlin said quietly. "And I don't think I have an answer for it. I loved how things were even though you were a royal pain in the arse–,"

"_Oi!_"

"–and in retrospect I probably would have backed out of this arrangement if I'd had the chance," Merlin admitted almost in a whisper. "But I have to admit being married to you is not the worst thing that could have happened to me."

"I cannot _imagine _what could be worse than marrying the _King _of one of the most powerful Kingdoms of the realm," Arthur replied indignantly.

"Just one thing."

"What's that?"

"Getting slobbered on by wildeorren."

That earned Merlin an indignant huff that left them both chuckling. As their laughter faded away, it left them in a tenser mood than before, the awkward silence stretching between them like horrible, sticky slime.

"Well," Arthur began, "I think it would be best for us to... turn in for the night, I imagine."

"Yes, of course," Merlin said, not taking his eyes off his King. Arthur couldn't help but allow himself a small reassuring smile – Merlin looked so small, so lost, so completely out of place in their now shared royal quarters, almost drowning in his rich wedding attire. To Arthur, he would always be the street urchin that by chance ended up being his manservant. At the same time he knew Merlin could be authoritative when he wanted to; he knew as well that Merlin could be smart and observant; that he could give sound advice and show kindness the likes of which Arthur, who had never experienced being a peasant except for those brief moments when they'd gone undercover, could never attain.

Just then Arthur realized that despite there being very little love between them in this marriage – his heart skipped a beat sadly, – that perhaps Merlin was what he needed beside himself on the throne of Camelot. Someone who knew what it was like to be just a simple person; someone who could offer a fresh perspective on his own often dry, insensitive rulings. It was possible the people would now trust the Crown more, if only because at this moment Arthur and his subjects had something in common, a link that could strengthen their bond – Merlin.

"What are you thinking about?" Merlin broke Arthur out of his musings and the King felt momentarily dazed.

"Nothing. Shut up, Merlin."

A grin split Merlin's face and Arthur scowled.

"I bet you were thinking about how much you wanted me in your bed again."

"Don't be ridiculous," Arthur huffed in indignation. "I barely need to think about it, you're willing enough."

"True. Still, you will need to woo me."

"_Woo _you?" Arthur let out a bark of laughter. "Do you even know what that means, Merlin?"

"Quite. I've helped you on occasion when the ladies of the realm refused to jump into bed with you."

"Did not."

"Did too."

Neither of them knew how they had ended up standing face to face, their noses almost touching as their semi-serious banter continued. The next thing Merlin knew was that he was looking into Arthur's impossibly blue eyes. He could smell Arthur's wine-spiced breath and he could see the heaving of the King's chest.

There was a pause.

Merlin didn't know who grabbed whom first; honestly, at that point, he didn't know much at all, except for the fact that there were hands and lips and tongues clashing; there were expensive clothing items falling down onto the floor and he could feel himself being backed to the bed until his knees hit the edge. Arthur pulled away from his lips long enough to give Merlin a questioning look and the latter nodded without even having processed what question was being asked. He only knew that at that moment Arthur could have whatever he wanted from him and more.

The young warlock knew he like Arthur, even _liked _him, but the notion of having to share quarters with him, having to pretend to make love... suddenly stopped being about _pretending _and more about _doing_. His lips melded with Arthurs and he collapsed onto the bed, tugging his husband on top of himself hungrily. Their hands roamed and as Arthur's arms slipped off the bed and his fingers fumbled around the bedside table for a vial of oil, Merlin had a passing thought that both scared and excited him:

_I could die happy right now_.

* * *

The next morning brought with it an unpleasant wake-up call in the guise of George, who for some reason decided that the newly wedded couple didn't need more than a couple hours' worth of sleep. After quite a bit of yelling and kicking him out, Arthur turned to the embarrassed Merlin who half-sat, half-lay on the bed with the sheets tugged up to his nose. He smiled:

"Morning."

"Good riddance you didn't say '_good _morning,' Sire," Merlin replied with a grin. "I mean, Arthur."

"You'll get used to it soon enough."

"I should otherwise your ego will get too big," Merlin grumbled, climbing out of bed and padding toward the mirror to give himself a critical once-over. The vision that met him in his reflection startled him – this scrubbed-clean young man with his hair in disarray and very suspicious marks covering the alabaster skin of his neck and shoulders still seemed incredibly unfamiliar to him.

With a rustle of the sheets, Arthur stood as well and walked over to him, sliding an arm around Merlin's shoulders from behind. They stood there, in the benevolent silence of their chambers with only their skin to cover them and looked at each other from the looking-glass.

"Are you ready for today?" Arthur asked quietly, watching Merlin's gaze drop to their naked bodies.

Merlin laughed:

"I have no choice but to be."

"Good."


	4. Chapter 4

**Unbeta-ed and short. **

Merlin's mouth fell open in a gape as Arthur led him through the heavy wooden doors into the hall where the Council meeting would be held. When his new husband had asked him whether he wanted to sit in on the meeting, he'd pointed out he'd done it many times before, to which Arthur had replied, _yes, but that was different, wasn't it?_

And different it was.

Merlin could have sworn he clearly remembered that the Council consisted of a very small amount of people, a handful of Arthur's closes friends and advisors. As he stepped into the hall, he saw a crowd – councilors, knights, their servants; all of them, he knew, had come for the sole purpose of watching him crash and burn as he would blubber over political decisions and make a complete fool of himself. The notion itself made his knees weak and when he saw Agravaine's smug grin, his heart stuttered. He hated the stuffy hall which allowed no room for air despite the fact that the castle walls were not exactly wind-resistant. He hated his new stifling clothes that felt more like a lead chain-mail than the Royal Consort gown. He hated the people in the room, especially the ones he knew did not like him; although Gwaine and Percival's equally _saucy _smirks also instilled in him a horrendously strong desire to enchant the floor to swallow him up whole and take him away to whatever inferno was available. Although he could not imagine a worse hell than the one he was about to step into.

"Relax, Merlin," Arthur hissed to him and he felt a bit of the tension flood out of his body when a firm arm was placed around his waist for all too see. That surprised him – Arthur was openly staking his claim on him, leading him into the Council chamber as his equal, as someone who had every right to be there and not just a raggedy servant boy with a water jug. Remembering Grimhilda's hurried etiquette lessons paired with Ulric's incessant rabbiting about manners, he made himself stand a bit taller and pushed his shoulders back discreetly to avoid looking like a _damned crooked nail_, as Grimhilda had put it.

The couple walked down the small passage formed by the parting of the crowd and took their places at the table. Merlin's new chair had been placed to Arthur's left – an unnecessarily posh, excessively decorated affair with gems and expensive new velvet around the armrests.

Silence fell as Arthur raised his hands. All eyes were on them. Merlin felt a traitorous droplet of sweat sliding down from his hairline and down his collar. He had the most terrible urge to clear his throat because it suddenly felt like there was honey blocking his vocal chords.

There was cotton in his mouth and sand in his eyes.

His left heel was itching like mad.

He had to sneeze.

He needed to pee.

This was not relaxing.

"Fellow councilors," Arthur began, surveying the room with a cool, controlled haze. Merlin wondered how he could do that. "Before we begin this session, I would like you to welcome my Royal Consort at the table, the newly named Merlin Pendragon."

He paused as polite applause resounded through the chamber, for some reason sounding quiet and hollow despite everyone having clapped. Merlin's fingers were shaking.

"As it is," the King continued, shooting Agravaine a deathly glare. "I have asked my advisors to amass the smallest amount of people at today's meeting in order not to overwhelm my husband. I see not that my petition had gone unheeded."

Agravaine didn't even have the courtesy to look apologetic. A couple of people sneered.

"I will now ask for everyone who does not have a seat at the Round Table to remove themselves from this room."

Nobody moved.

"_Now_."

Deafening noise filled the chambers as people started shuffling out, all the while grumbling about the unfair treatment there were receiving from their _good _and _just _King for the sake of this _servant boy's _comfort. Merlin gulped. This was not good at all, the servants already hated him for _getting out _of poverty and the nobles were condescending and cruelly mean.

"Wait!" He said before he could stop himself, unnecessarily loudly. The people came to a halt, bumping into each other in haste.

Arthur gave him a confused look. Merlin nodded once at him.

"Who am I to kick my own people out of the Council chambers?" He asked quietly, knowing the whole hall would hear him for the wondrous acoustics the architecture offered. "King Arthur has stated many a time that he wants clean, transparent politics. That can only be achieved by opening our doors to our subjects, can it not?"

"Although it seems some of our fellow councilors have neglected to follow the King's direct order..." Merlin paused, looking at Agravaine pointedly who bared his teeth unkindly.

"I'm sure it can all be forgiven for the sake of Camelot's future. Isn't that true, my love?" He turned to look at Arthur who still stood beside his chair, his lips parted and his eyes slightly wider than they usually were. The King composed himself in the next second and bestowed upon his cheek a chaste kiss that left the onlookers aghast and his consort weak-kneed.

"Merlin showed you lot a courtesy," he said, surveying the room critically. "I would appreciate it if you did the same in return."

The meeting started with the councilors in their seats and the rest of the crowd pressed up against the opposing wall. There was little talk among the spectators, but most of it was about the King's new spouse.

* * *

"You did a great job today, you know," Arthur pointed out as he kicked off his boots and stretched on the bed, watching Merlin lazily as the latter removed his overcoat and placed it onto the back of his chair. He then grabbed an apple from the bowl, not having been able to eat much in the morning because of his nervousness, and sat down onto the bed next to the King.

"Thank you, My Lord," he replied quietly, munching on the apple. He had spoken greatly out of turn, as he had seen judging by the looks on the advisors' faces yet it seemed Arthur was pleased with how things had turned out.

"Enough of this _My Lord _nonsense, Merlin, you're giving me a headache," Arthur said dismissively.

"Of course, my liege."

"Oh, come on, Merlin." Arthur sat up with a flourish. "What's got you so riled up?"

Merlin sighed.

"Your advisors hate me."

"No, they don't, they just–," Arthur stopped when he saw Merlin's glare. "All right, maybe they do, but now at least they know where you stand among them. I have to admit, I never thought you had it in you."

"What do you mean?"

"The way you spoke today, Merlin. You were able to articulate actual _sentences_," Arthur joked with a smile to indicate he was doing it in kind jest. "No, honestly, you spoke like a..."

"A Queen?" Merlin questioned humorlessly.

"Perhaps. Well, not a Queen, but with the kindness and wisdom of one, that is for sure," Arthur answered, now completely serious. "I guess all that serving during council sessions and banquets did good for your vocabulary."

"I'll have you know I speak several languages," Merlin said without thinking.

"What?" Arthur asked sharply. "What do you mean by that?"

"W-well..." Merlin began. "Gaius sort of helped me out and gave me some lessons in–,"

"You said, 'speak.' That means more than just _lessons _with Gaius, Merlin."

"I read a lot. And I can't help but remember what I read and learn from it, Arthur." Merlin bit his lip.

"So?"

"So what?"

"Don't play coy. What languages?"

"Um..." Merlin began. "Anglisc."

"That much is obvious."

"Latin."

"Really?"

"Um, Frisian."

"What?"

"...and, um..."

"Just spit it out, you doofus!"

"_Fine! _The language of the Old Religion!"

"_WHAT?_"

Arthur's brow was spasming dangerously. Merlin felt his heart slip down to his belly in fear.

"You mean to say that all this time, when we wasted so much energy and effort going to Gaius for the translation of magical symbols, you have been able to do it at the drop of a hat, _Mer_-lin?" Arthur asked quietly, his voice a controlled, terrifying baritone.

"Uh... Yes?" Merlin asked. At least Arthur didn't draw the conclusion that he had magic, he mused. That would have not sat well with him.

"You really are a dunderhead, you know that?" Arthur laughed, returning to his relaxed mood. Merlin exhaled in relief. _Thank the Goddess, _he thought. _I still have my head. _

"You might have mentioned that once or twice, My Lord," Merlin answered with a small grin.

"Where did you study it, though? I thought all the books were removed from public access in Camelot," Arthur pointed out.

"You forget that I am from Ealdor. It's part of the former Cenred's kingdom, Arthur, and magic is lawful there," Merlin replied quietly, watching Arthur's face undergo change into something unreadable.

"And how was it, then?" Arthur asked. "I have never known what it's like to live in a land where the Old Religion reigns supreme."

"It wasn't like that," Merlin protested. "It did not _reign_, that's for sure. I only met another sorcerer once, that's all."

"_Another _sorcerer? You've known two?"

Shite.

"Yes. Two. Of course. Two of them, yes. Sorcerers."

Arthur gave him a suspicious look before continuing.

"So how was it?"

"Just the same. For those who did not practice the Old Religion, it was the same. We still ate what we harvested and did manual labor. Sometimes a magician would come and help us out with the crops and maladies if things got really bad," Merlin answered with a shrug. "I only saw how magic can be practiced for evil here, in Camelot."

"Do you think..." Arthur trailed off.

"What?"

"Do you... suppose outlawing the Old Religion was what began this abuse of power?" Arthur asked.

"Well," Merlin began quietly. "I suppose there was always someone who used their magic for _bad _things. But now the sorcerers are in revolt, they want to fix the injustice the only way they know – with violent magic. I don't think the laws started it, Arthur. But I don't think they helped."

Arthur let out a laugh.

"That is what I've been telling my father time and time again while he... Well, you know. You were there when it got really bad, Merlin." He sat up and nudged his consort's shoulder softly with his own. Merlin smiled at him nostalgically, remembering how it had been Uther, for all his faults, that had brought them together that night when Merlin had clumsily saved his Prince's life. How simple things had been back then; Merlin would care for Arthur, fetch him this and that, he would go hunting with him and play squire to him during tournaments. The only things that roamed the forests in the night were wild animals back then; safe as long as they'd had swords in their hands and arrows in their quivers. Now, however, the fate of Camelot rested on their young shoulders that ached with the weight of responsibility.

"What are you thinking about?" Arthur asked quietly before raising a hand to card it through Merlin's hair gently. He'd never allowed himself such indulgences before; of course, _before _circumstances were quite different. He was espoused to this man now and their marital behaviors were what determined their authority.

It also felt nice.

"The day we met," Merlin answered. "Do you remember?"

"How could I forget," Arthur laughed. "Such insolence from a street urchin toward the King's son. My friends actually teased me for weeks afterwards, I'll have you know."

"_Really? _What did they say, then? That I was right to stand up to such a clotpole?"

"That hurt my reputation quite a bit, if you must," Arthur answered, giving Merlin a mock-scandalized glance. "To get nearly beaten at a public market by a... a..."

"Merlin?"

"Exactly!" Arthur clapped his hands.

"And I beat you," Merlin supplied.

"No, you did _not_. You were the one who ended up in the dung."

"Just by chance."

"Chance? I consider it strategical cunning."

"Well, you would, wouldn't you?"

"Watch your tongue," Arthur replied with a grin, wagging his finger at Merlin's smiling face. Without thinking, Merlin grabbed his husband's wrist and pressed his lips to the fine knuckles. Arthur's eyes widened. "What are you doing?"

Merlin shrugged, not letting go of Arthur's hand. With a pause, Arthur grabbed Merlin's other hand and drew him closer. Their noses touched.

They were kissing the next moment.

Nobody was there to watch. There was no passion between them, no hunger, no need. Just a simple _joix de vivre_, a giddy drunken-like state induced by the presence of the other person.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, their lives seemed quite uneventful, vacillating between council meetings and quiet lovemaking in their chambers. Arthur and Merlin had entered a sort of pattern, an arrangement of sorts – they would act the happy couple of benevolent rulers in front of their people... and then they would continue with the illusion when alone in their chambers. Merlin couldn't quite put his finger on it – they were not passionately, wickedly in love, yet he'd never felt as comfortable as he did now with Arthur. The wall of social status that had divided them before was gone, completely destroyed, and they had become the best of friends, just as they'd longed to for so much time.

Arthur himself seemed happier now, his spirits lifted and his battles successful. He would now consult with Merlin whenever he doubted himself – which, _don't tell Arthur_, was a frequent occurrence, – and mostly heeded his advice after a bit of whining and reassertion of his masculinity. They would spend countless hours pouring over maps and books, with Merlin aiding in the translation of some documents delivered by Frisian and Roman ambassadors and consequently getting the official translator sacked.

Over dinner, they would discuss the future of the Kingdom, the future of _their _Kingdom, as though it were a natural occurrence, as though Merlin had been born to be married to the King of Camelot. With a couple of Merlin's ideas, the taxes were cut and the people were happier, slowly warming up to the new Royal Consort. The kitchen lady still hissed at him every time he walked past her swiftly into the palace kitchens and cockily took the freshly-baked buns off their tray. He could now do whatever he wanted and she, finally, after such a long a while, was _powerless _against him.

That was one of the small victories he'd attained.

Merlin was broken out of his reverie as Arthur nudged him playfully with a smirk.

"Looks like our Royal Consort has fallen deep asleep," he laughed, and a snigger rippled down the dinner table. The banquet was held to celebrate exactly three months of their marriage and they, as the hosts, were supposed to entertain a room full of people when what they wanted to be was alone in their chambers, studying books and making love. _Having sex, _Merlin reminded himself. _Don't even go near the L word. _

"Can't help it is the King has made his life's mission to bore me to death," Merlin replied with a grin. The table laughed louder and he felt like he was on top of the world.

The wine flowed as did the conversation, and the two found themselves inching increasingly closer to each other, matching smiles never leaving their faces.

They slid off quickly when the doors slammed open.

The knights scrambled for their swords.

"Morgana."


	5. Chapter 5 Part 1

**Author's Notes: **I decided to split this chapter to torture you. Comment?

* * *

In the blink of an eye, a horrendous screeching sound reverberated across the hall as swords and daggers were drawn, all pointed towards the unwelcome newcomer. Both Merlin and Arthur shot up from their seats and stood, _hopefully _authoritatively, their eyes fixed on the deceptively petite figure that had entered the hall.

"Why have you come here, Morgana?" Arthur asked, his voice not giving away the tension Merlin could feel radiating from his body.

In response, the witch only smiled and took slow steps towards them in a mockery of an official procession. The smile never left her face even as the knights flexed their muscles and brandished their swords for she knew very well that they wouldn't dare move against her – she was far too powerful for any man to take on. Her dress slid with a soft hiss down the stone floor, the sound almost a cacophony in the absolute silence of the hall. She bowed her head to Sir Leon in jest and the knight looked back at her with determination, at which she only _tsked _and shook her head. Finally, she came to a halt halfway down the dinner table and stood, as still as a statue, watching the King and his Consort unwaveringly.

"Can't I congratulate my brother on his new _marriage_?" She spat the word like it was diseased. Merlin sensed when Arthur's fists clenched and he carefully laid his hand on his King's elbow. Arthur's hands relaxed but the stubborn set of his shoulders remained visible.

"I'm afraid you're several months late, Morgana," the King answered cooly.

"News travel slowly to my home. I suppose my invitation was lost on its way?" Morgana questioned, the ice in her voice equal to the frozen night outside.

"I ask again: why have you come?"

"To look into the eyes of that which took _my _rightful place upon the throne of Camelot as... Well, I suppose, your new _Queen_," Morgana sneered, her gaze shifting to Arthur's left.

Merlin felt his magic bubble up dangerously beneath his skin – a reaction to Morgana's obvious bating. She was there to undermine what little authority he'd built for himself. What she didn't know, of course, was that he could pulverize her in a blink of an eye without breaking a sweat. The bad news was that Arthur didn't know what either.

"My Lady Morgana," Merlin acknowledged, pushing down the power threatening to break out of his skin. He bowed his head in a dignified semi-nod he'd learnt from the nobles of the realm when they would come to visit. His chin was up and his neck was rigid yet he was able to bow his head in a way that clearly commanded superiority and politeness at the same time. This was a skill he had never thought he would have to master.

"My Lord Royal Consort Merlin _Pendragon_," Morgana countered, the smile on her face becoming bigger and transforming her beautiful features into a mask of grim humor. "How good must it feel for you to be out of poverty and in the Royal bed of our esteemed King."

"Among other things, my position has granted many benefits," Merlin replied, keeping an eye out for a way he could surreptitiously drop a chandelier onto her head.

"I'm sure. I hope it didn't take a long time for you to adjust from your old role as the King's _servant_ bitch to your new position as the King's _royal _bitch."

"You will hold your tongue," Arthur threatened, his hand swooping down to the hilt of his sword.

"Why should I?" Morgana laughed. "Everyone in Court is already thinking it. You didn't honestly suppose the people would simply accept the sacrilegious crime the two of you have committed against the Crown? This marriage is a sham, and so are the two of you – a sham King with a sham servant for a _wife_."

"That's enough!" Bellowed Sir Leon, stepping forward. "Know whom you're speaking to!"

He was instantly thrown back into the farthermost wall. The Court watched in terrified fascination as his body his the cold stone with a sickening blow and fell limply to the ground, motionless.

Mortified, Arthur started from his place, his cloak bellowing behind him as he strode towards his sister.

"Get out, Morgana."

"Why should I? We _are _family, and I _am _royalty," Morgana noted. She turned to look at Merlin, who stood quietly by, watching the proceedings, his jaw working from the effort of strangling his magic. "Unlike your new _husband_."

Arthur's hand clenched tightly around the hilt of his sword. Sensing danger – namely, Arthur's hot temper versus Morgana's uncontrollable hysterics magnified by High Priestess magic, – Merlin stepped forward, joining his King on the floor; challenging the unwelcome guest to a staring contest (the most he could do in the present situation, really).

"I may not have been born royal, Morgana, but at least I am not a traitor to my own family," he said evenly, watching as the witch's fair face became a grimace.

"You mean the family that goes against everything I am, your _Highness_?" Morgana asked mockingly. "The family which persecutes those like me? That hunts us like animals?"

Merlin fought the urge to cringe. _Yes, _he thought to himself grimly. _That exact family. The family I've been wedded into._

"A new time will come, Morgana. Perhaps if those like you," _us, _"used your forces for the greater good then this conflict would be resolved."

"Perhaps if you shut your mouth, you filthy _peasant_–,"

"Enough. I will not tolerate this kind of language towards my husband," Arthur said coldly, stepping in. Merlin wanted to shake his head in dismay – they'd acted like a couple of scullery maids at the marketplace. Bickering like a couple of old women while ignoring the fact that, unbeknownst to the rest of the room, the two of them had enough magic to level Camelot into the ground with a single word. _Gods, I've become a housewife._

"I will not tolerate this kind of foolishness to take part in _my _rightful place," Morgana retorted. "I am weary of this. This silly chatter makes my head ache and my bones crave for a pillow. I shall take my leave."

The hall exhaled in relief.

"But not before I take your life, Arthur Pendragon."

Merlin watched as if in slow motion, as Morgana raised her hand and pointed it, palm open towards the King. He only had a split second's notice to realize what she was doing before he stepped in front of his husband, shielding him with his much less impressive body.

Morgana laughed, a shrill, inhuman sound that turned into a curse.

The ancient words she whispered reverberated around a room and Merlin could feel Arthur's strong arms trying to move him from his place, yet he stood his ground. There was nothing else to do – him and Gaius were the only people who had magic in Camelot, to his knowledge, at least, – and he would never let Gaius take this risk for him or his husband.

For a moment, the hall was silence and then, a roaring sound of gasps and shocked exclamations shook the walls as Merlin knew his eyes had lit up with a golden hue.

He whispered the curse, knowing everyone would hear. The words turned into dashes of light, splitting and condensing all over the room. The wondrous sight was not long to behold – the tiny speckles seemed to come together into the palm of his hand to form a ball of pure magic and drifted, slowly, almost lazily, towards Morgana's chest.

Her lips parted in curious surprise and then, to Merlin's chagrin, became a genuine, gleeful smile of complete and utter hatred toward him.

A moment later, Morgana fell to the ground, cold.

Nobody moved.

Nobody spoke.

Then there was a flurry of movement as everyone turned to look at their King, who stood, shell-shocked, behind his Royal Consort, his mouth slightly open in a comical fashion, his eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and awe. It seemed as though he was unable to move. Taking advantage of his husband's momentary paralysis, Merlin strode towards the corner in which Leon lay, still yet to stir. The crowd parted, nearly falling back as they let him pass, and his heart was pounding in his ears as he bent down to look at the knight. With a regretful look at Arthur, Merlin lowered himself onto his knees and touched his hand to Leon's forehead. The simple healing spell he'd used so many times before was like lead on his tongue; and for a moment he thought it wouldn't work. Yet his magic, ever the elemental force that it was, worked infallibly in front of the kingdom's elite.

Leon's eyes fluttered open and the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile when he saw his King's husband. A second later, his mouth set into a downward curve when the realization hit him as he watched the golden light fade from Merlin's eyes.

Drawing himself up, Merlin turned his back to Leon and walked on heavy feet to Arthur, who stood, solemn and silent, in the middle of the hall, over the body of his half-sister. The people took several steps back when Merlin approached them, creating a ripple in the dense crowd.

Merlin stopped in front of his King, his eyes set straight onto Arthur's.

"Do what you wish with me, Your Highness," he said quietly, his voice like thunder in the hushed hall. He then dropped to one knee and bent his neck so that he was looking at the floor.

There was silence, heavy and still; it was so quiet, Merlin could hear the ringing of his own thoughts fluttering passionately at the recesses of his mind: what now? What now? _What now?_

He heard the words before they escaped Arthur's lips.

"By the power vested in me, I arrest you on the charge of sorcery."

He didn't feel himself get dragged away by the guards.

For the first time in his life, Merlin felt peace.


	6. Chapter 5 Part 2

**Author's Notes: **

All the mistakes are mine.

I apologize for the lateness, college is time-consuming :(

Also, I used Gaelic for the spell. Well, I say Gaelic. More like Google Translate-ic. Review?

* * *

The soft _drip-drip_ of the rain was what startled him out of his worried sleep. Drawing himself up on the sold, barely straw-covered dungeon floor, Merlin turned to look at the tiny barred window that separated him from the world outside. He was still wearing his royal cloak, which he folded around himself as he made to stride over to take a breath of the fresh air tempting him with its cool caress, only to find that a thick chain had been fastened around his ankle to prevent him from moving around too much. _So much for marrying the King, _he thought, his mind spinning back to what had occurred a few hours ago. He couldn't believe this would be how it all ended. At least it hadn't been a stupid mistake that had given him away. At least he'd done good for his kingdom and Arthur.

"How long?"

He turned, with a deafening clanging of chains, towards the source of the voice. There, his back resting against the heavy stone pillar of the dungeon, sat King Arthur himself, looking completely disheveled and slightly disturbed. _Very _disturbed, to be honest.

"My Lord?" Merlin questioned, facing Arthur with difficulty. He looked down, avoiding Arthur's eyes and focusing instead on a spot on his chin. This was safe.

"How long have you been lying to me, Merlin?" The King's voice was steely. "How long have you been committing treason against the Crown?"

Merlin gulped.

"Since... since the day I arrived in Camelot, My Lord," he replied quietly, watching Arthur's facial expression undergo a series of changes from determination to rage and then, finally, to something akin to understanding.

"Why?"

_You know why, _Merlin wanted to shout. _You know exactly why. Your father would have had me executed with a snap of his fingers and without a second thought, Arthur, and I never would have become your servant, the Once and Future King's servant. _Instead, he only looked away, towards the window.

"The Kingdom's policies would have seen me removed, My Lord," he answered quietly. Arthur let out a shrill chuckle, half-amused, half-pained.

"You do realize the policies still stand, Merlin."

"Yes, My Lord."

"_Would you stop it with the 'My Lord' business?_" Arthur said angrily, drawing himself up and walking towards the bars. His eyes scanned Merlin's skinny frame clad in expensive cloths and gilded threads, slightly dirtied yet still unfittingly majestic on his former servant's thin body. His face was drawn, weary, and yet somehow –,

"You look relieved."

Merlin answered with an unhappy smile, still averting his eyes.

"It has been... difficult... to hide my true nature from you, My Lord."

"I told you to stop. I speak as your husband, not as your King."

To that, Merlin looked up.

"My husband?"

"You didn't think I would reject our bond just because of the _shame _you have brought upon the Crown of Camelot?" Arthur replied with acidity. The warlock's shoulder slumped.

"That was never my intention."

"Yet this is where we are. You behind bars, me stuck up to my ears in political scandal; and the whole of Camelot watching our every move."

"This is why I never told you," Merlin answered.

"So that your stupid hide would stay alive?" Arthur thundered.

"So that you wouldn't be put into this position."

That brought the King up short as he stared at Merlin, open-mouthed, trying to process what he'd just said. He took a step towards the prison cell and Merlin stepped away, his back slumping against the cold wall. Arthur stopped, his shoulders tense. Merlin shrank in on himself.

"That was what worried you?" The King asked, his words catching in his throat. A heavy ache settled in his chest. "That I would have to choose?"

Merlin didn't answer, his eyes cast down.

"Look at me when I speak to you, damn it!"

Merlin's eyes snapped up.

"Yes, My Lord."

"_Enough! Enough! You and your _fucking _words and your _fucking _magic and your insufferable– Ugh! Why did you have to walk into my life and ruin everything–,_"

"I'm sorry," Merlin replied, wrapping his cloak around himself. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

All the anger flooded out of Arthur's body. He stared at Merlin for a moment before sitting back down onto the floor and leveling himself with Merlin, their gazes locking. He would not say he was in love with the man, for he knew they were more friends than lovers – at least that_ had been _the case before, – and yet, these past few months had been filled with such careless joy, with Merlin's company by his side. He had been proud to hold Merlin's hand and kiss his lips in front of his people, to agree with his law adjustments and heed his advice. Merlin was not just a Consort to him, not simply a warm body to sleep next to every night; he was a true friend. He was, perhaps, something much more than that.

The reality of the situation collapsed onto Arthur's shoulders like an avalanche. Merlin had been able to use magic before. And he had. How many times? Had anyone seen? Did anyone else know? The questions seemed to emerge out of nowhere, each more gravely than the one before.

"What am I supposed to do?" Arthur asked, shaking his head. "If I spare your life, my people might rise up. An unjust King who favors his husband among the ranks of sorcerers. If I kill you, I might anger the other magic users of the realm, not to mention I myself would–,"

"Do what you see fit," Merlin replied in a whisper, staring at Arthur. He had intentionally cut him off, not letting him complete the thought. He was no fool, he knew Arthur had feelings for him, feelings they both shared; were they friendship or romance, they ruled Arthur's judgement.

"You will not defend your case?"

"What is there to defend?" Merlin laughed bitterly. "I have magic. I have always had magic, since birth I was different to those around me. I came here to escape the village gossip and now I am locked up in a dungeon."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I wouldn't change any of it. I have served my purpose, so it seems."

"Your purpose?"

"To stand by the side of the Once and Future King."

The silence between them hung like a thick veil of suffocating smoke. Arthur just stood there, looking at Merlin, his face completely expressionless. Merlin felt discomfort under his King's gaze and shrank in onto himself even more, trying to shield himself from view as much as possible.

"You really are an idiot, _Merlin_," Arthur sighed. The warlock exhaled in a half-laugh, half-sob. Arthur watched as the tiny ball on the floor that just happened to be one of the most powerful magic-wielders he'd ever witnessed in action, if not _the most _powerful, unraveled and the man, who had just been a nervous wreck, straightened himself up, sitting with his back against the wall with dignity he'd clearly learned in his place as the Consort. It seemed as though Arthur's usual barb had an almost calming effect on him.

"I need to think," Arthur finally said, after what had felt like eons of just staring at this mysterious, miraculous, impossible man. "I'll see you tonight, before sundown."

Merlin simply nodded.

* * *

"This is insanity," Gaius said urgently, his hushed voice echoing across the stone corridors of the dungeon as he struggled to keep up with his King, who was steadily striding towards his goal – Merlin. After hours of thought and research, conducted by a guilty-looking Gaius and a perplexed Geoffrey of Monmouth, a solution had been reached. It wasn't ideal, and Arthur hated, and so did his physician but given the circumstances – it was either that or death for his Consort.

Needless to say, he didn't want Merlin to die.

"What do you suggest I do, then, Gaius?" Arthur answered, irritated with lack of sleep and politics. "The chopping block's right around the corner if you want a healthy alternative."

"Merlin will never agree to it."

"I'll force him."

"You saw what the Book said, it _has got _to be voluntary agreement otherwise–,"

"Yes, _yes_, I know! The spell won't work and _whatever_ won't happen!"

"Your majesty, are you _entirely sure _you understand–,"

"Gaius, I am not a child and you are not to address me in this manner. Especially since you have been harboring a sorcerer in your quarters for years," Arthur said harshly, instantly regretting his words when Gaius' face took on a closed-off expression of shame and sorrow. The man, despite his earlier affiliations, had always stood by his father's strict laws on the Old Religion, and went against everything he believed in for the Kingdom. Arthur was perfectly aware of that, as was the rest of the Court, even though it went unmentioned most of the time.

"Look," Arthur said, stopping in front of the dungeon door and putting a hand on the seam to prevent Gaius from opening it himself. He took a tentative breath and closed his eyes for a moment, letting the emotion wash over him as Merlin had taught him once – although now that he thought about it, what had made him so completely calm might have been part of the sorcerer's magic, it had worked unusually fast. "I am aware of the consequences. But as far as I understand, we are in _very _hot water with the public, not to mention Agravaine has been hinting far too frequently for my liking on setting the date for Merlin's execution."

"We both know that can't happen," he said quickly, noting Gaius' brokenhearted look. "Merlin is strategically the best chance we have against the enemies of the kingdom, _now _I am aware of that. Not to mention–," He broke off.

"Not to mention I care about him too much to let them burn him at the stake," he admitted, more to himself than to his physician. Gaius' eyes widened in surprise. The King had never been particularly vocal about his relationship with his Consort, except for public show, and now... _Well, the boy has finally become a man, _Gaius mused to himself, pushing down the amused thought as far as possible.

"We have no time to lose then," the court physician replied, bowing his head and gesturing to the door. Arthur nodded hurriedly and tugged the heavy door open, stepping over the threshold and holding the door to let Gaius through. _Looks like Merlin taught him to respect his elders as well, _Gaius thought. They walked quickly down the passageway between the many holding cells and towards the very end of the space where, encased in iron bars, sat Merlin's prison.

It broke Gaius' heart to see his former charge like this – so small, drowned in his ceremonial robes, sitting slumped against the cold stone wall. His face, though tired from lack of sleep and light, became alert when he saw the two men enter the corridor. He tried pushing himself up further but failed with the heaviness of the chains weighing him down. Arthur's pace increased in brusqueness and he strode forward, almost falling to his knees in front of the bars of Merlin's cell.

"My Lord," Merlin said quietly, bowing his head in the sheepish manner Arthur had thought he'd long lost in his time as a royal.

"Merlin, I told you this is not necessary," Arthur said sharply, and Merlin flinched. Instantly, the King's face changed, softening, as did his voice. "Listen to me, Merlin. There isn't much time. I have come to a conclusion, aided by Gaius and your... uh, _spell book_," Merlin lowered his eyes, "and this looks like the only solution we have. So I want you to hear me out very carefully and give me the right answer, all right?"

Merlin nodded in acknowledgement.

"Gaius?"

"Yes, Your Highness," Gaius said, walking forward and revealing Merlin's book of magic from underneath the folds of his robes. "There's a... slight possibility that your subjects will accept these terms in lieu of your execution but there's also a chance that it might be quite lethal to you–,"

"I'll do it," Merlin said sharply.

"No, Merlin, don't... Just... don't rush into this, do you understand me?" Gaius said wearily. Merlin nodded slowly. "As I was saying. There is a spell, a _binding _of sorts that will contain your magic with a... a _lock _of sorts. A physical object that will be control by the person whom you are bound to. That way, you cannot use a drop of sorcery in you unless this person tells you to or they are in immediate danger that requires the use of magic to save them."

"You mean... I won't have magic anymore?" Merlin asked quietly, his eyes snapping from Gaius to Arthur and back.

"You will," Gaius assured. "You will still feel it. This object will be... Well, think of it was a _cage_, a _bar _on your magic of sorts. It will still all be inside your body _as well _as your essence, there will simply be no way of channeling it."

"So, I will be powerless?" Merlin asked. "Unless my... my _master _tells me I can use magic?"

"To put it in simple terms, yes."

"I'll be a pet."

"I wouldn't say that, you will–,"

"I'll do it."

"What?" Arthur asked unexpectedly loudly.

"I said I'll do it, _Arthur_," Merlin said decisively. "Or should I call you _master _from now on?"

"What?" Arthur asked again, a stupid look on his face.

"I'm assuming you will be the person controlling me," Merlin said, his eyes calculating. "To gain public power within the kingdom. The King and his Consort, the ruler and his warlock?"

"Merlin, I want you to understand I'm doing this primarily for your safety–,"

"I understand why you're doing it, Arthur," Merlin replied, the corners of his mouth turned down. "And I'm willing to do it. Beats death, anyway."

There was a pause.

"All right, then," Arthur said in a whisper, turning to Gaius.

"I'm guessing it will be a _very _public ceremony?" Merlin asked quietly. Arthur nodded once, as if the thought made him feel unpleasant to the stomach. "As I thought."

Gaius and the King looked at him.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" Merlin asked with a little more determination in his voice. "Let's do it. I don't have much time left until your goons come in here and exert lynching."

* * *

"People of Camelot!"

The crowd instantly fell to a hush, the occasional whisper traveling down the neat rows standing underneath the royal balcony. The people's faces were raised up to look at the King who'd just stepped out, decked in royal regalia and looking quite authoritative. They all knew it was for show. To promote the feeling of power he had over them, in order to overweigh the disbelief that _he _of all people would have married a _warlock_.

"As you may know, it has recently been exposed that my spouse, Lord Merlin Pendragon of Camelot..." A titter tickled the crowd. "... is a sorcerer. Neither of us denies these allegations, as it is completely pointless. Those who saw it have told you."

"My Father, Uther Pendragon, dedicated his entire life to the war against the Old Religion. At times, his judgements were difficult and harsh. Thought mostly just, he'd allowed himself many frivolities and cruelties towards those who use magic. As of now, I wish to change this."

"I love my Consort," Arthur stated, his voice unwavering and the people nodded in approval. Agravaine's face was taken over by a spasm. "And I will not have him executed. I am going against the law of Camelot."

The crowd roared, some in indignation, some in joy.

"Nevertheless, his treason cannot be left unanswered." The crowd hushed. "Therefore, a binding ceremony will be conducted in the view of the public eye right at this moment in order to ensure its right, to contain his magic and reserve it solely for the use of the kingdom."

"Bring out Merlin."

When the Royal Consort stepped out, flanked by two guards, the courtyard became a beehive filled with noise and talk and stares. Merlin could feel hundreds of glares directed at him and he almost wanted to use his magic to simply vanish into thin air, never appear here, ever again, and just... leave. As it was, when he saw Arthur's ashen face, he nodded solemnly for him to proceed. The King took his hand, placing his other palm on Merlin's shoulder and bowing his head to him. He spoke in a loud, clear voice for the people to hear.

"Merlin Pendragon of Camelot, do you accept the binding of your magic for all eternity?" He asked, his eyes stricken.

"I do," Merlin replied calmly. Suddenly, his whole body was flushed of its nervousness. It was all over now. There was nothing he could do. He was standing in front of many scores of people, in the arms of his King, where he belonged. If this was his destiny, it was cruel, but it was his. He would not oppose what was happening. He just hoped Arthur would be a just master. That was it. Simply that.

"Do you pledge your magic and life to me, to protect me, and to serve me in times of need?"

"I do."

"And do you relinquish all control over your magic and give it to me, your one and true–," Arthur's voice broke, his eyes searching. Merlin nodded imperceptibly. _It's all right_. _I trust you._

"...master?"

"I do."

"Then, Merlin Pendragon of Camelot, conduct your last free use of magic to bind our lives together," Arthur said solemnly, his eyes weary. A casket was offered to him by one of the knights and he opened it cautiously, as if it would sting. This was the object they agreed on using. Ygraine's festive collar lay on the cushion of red velvet, glinting in the dim sunlight. The King lifted it out of its resting place and fastened it around Merlin's neck. The blue stones became Merlin's eyes. It was Arthur's favorite piece of his mother's jewelry.

He wished he could have given it to his Consort under different circumstances.

He hated it now.

Merlin took a deep breath.

This was it.

"_I, Merlin, mo shaol a thabhairt duit, Arthur Pendragon de Camelot. Is é mo draíochta mise. Is é mo shaol mise. Is é mo ghrá mise go deo." _


	7. Chapter 6

**Author's Notes: **Sorry for the lateness, college has been super-crazy.

* * *

It felt strange. Well, rather, it felt strange that it _didn't _feel strange. The cool metal of the collar felt as though it had been there since birth, fused with the thin skin of his clavicles. It dipped into the curves of his (_skinny_, according to the King) neck, embracing the flesh, _feeding _on it. It was elegant, pristine. Something _he _most definitely wasn't.

"Don't play with it, you'll go blind," came the sleepy voice from the depth of their chambers.

Merlin let his hand fall from the silver encasing his skin. He studied his reflection, wondering how he had ended up this way. A very together, strict, _constrained _warlock dressed as a pretty decoration for the King's side. He had never considered himself good-looking, having always been a bit on the slim side with his brittle bones and lack of muscle, having been teased by his peers in the village with mean childhood nicknames like _chicken _and _mouse-face_. And yet, Arthur had turned out to be right: there was nothing a little grooming couldn't do. Before, Merlin had rolled his eyes when his master had complained about all the pampering, writing it off as a spoilt brat's capricious episode; now, though, after having been subjected to hours of scrubbing courtesy of his scary maid, he finally understood how hard it was to maintain a public face.

Though the bags under his eyes betrayed the events leading up to this minute, Merlin _Pendragon _was as put-together as he had been since the moment he'd pledged his _love _to the King. He stood in front of the mirror, restraining himself from reaching out towards the man (_boy_) looking back. His skinny shoulders were drowned in a grand dressing gown sewn with the finest velvets and gilded threads of the kingdom. It cascaded down his figure, opened at the chest where a couple of lovebites, mixed with bruises from the rough handling from the day he'd spent in the dungeon, stood out against the pallidness of his skin. His hair was a mess, and his feet were bare as he refused to wear the ridiculous _royal _slippers in favor of letting the soles of his feet feel the biting cold of the castle morning. It felt as though nothing had changed overnight.

Except for the collar. The fine silver encased the central blue sapphire, rendering the otherwise tasteless big gem beautiful. Down from it hung several strings of opal and topaz, all linked together with minuscule chains. Out of the sapphire grew flowers, beautiful horned roses and grand fleurs-de-lys. Two mythical dragon-fish surrounded the gem, rendering the feminine accessory slightly more wearable by a man. It was an astonishing piece of craftsmanship; the envy of all women (and some men) of the land, and all Merlin wanted to do was rip it off. . _1345628338_

"Come back to bed, Merlin, it's too early to think as loudly as you do," came the voice again and Merlin sighed, turning away from his reflection and paddling back into the bowels of the chamber where the King lay on their bed, eyes blurred with sleep, chest bare, scarcely covered by the woolen blankets recently imported from Mercia. Without a word, the Consort slipped into bed, exchanging the gown for the warmth of Arthur's body underneath the coarse threading.

He propped himself up on one elbow and surveyed his King's tired face. The man looked as if he had been the one to spend the previous night in chains fearing for his life. Merlin could tell it had taken a toll on him as well. It touched him, that Arthur cared this much about him, despite being close to... He didn't even know what... _Ugh, this is such a mess, _he thought to himself and let his muscles succumb to the urge of simply relaxing and laid down all the way alongside Arthur.

"What were you doing there?" The King questioned quietly, opening one eye gingerly to look at his warlock.

"Nothing," Merlin answered with a strained smile, wishing Arthur would just close his eyes again and sleep like all normal people did. Arthur raised and eyebrow, inching a bit closer to intrude into Merlin's personal space even more. "Just... thinking."

"I guess it's a lot to take in," Arthur mused quietly, his eyes darting between the fine gem of the collar and Merlin's weary eyes.

"For both of us," Merlin confirmed. He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry's not... not what I'm looking for," Arthur said quietly. "I just... I wish I had known before. We could have..."

"Executed me earlier?" Merlin managed a laugh. "I don't think so."

"Stop it, you know what I mean."

"I know."

A tense pause hung in the air.

"Sleep?"

"Sleep."

* * *

The great hall fell into an immediate hush when the heavy doors opened and the King and his Consort stepped inside, preceded by Gaius and Agravaine. The Knights seemed to lean towards them as they walked through the live corridor to take their places on their thrones. They gravitated towards the Pendragons, some whispering encouraging things under their breath for Merlin to hear, other simply nodding to them. Merlin lowered his eyes, trying to avoid the many gazes that were fixed on him, or rather, on his exposed neck, framed by silks and wools; the vertebrae seemingly held up by the silver collar. He thought he heard a snigger travel throughout the hall quietly, almost soundlessly. That, surprisingly, did not serve to discourage him – instead, even as Arthur's hand around his elbow tightened a fraction, Merlin raised his chin defiantly and continued walking, crossing the torturous distance that was left.

As they sat in their thrones, the hall seemed to relax, and chatter broke out immediately. Merlin couldn't tell whether they were discussing him or another matter, but he kept an eager ear out. Arthur had told him this morning that it was impervious for them to know what the people of the Court, as well as the people of the street, were saying about the two of them and (he'd said it with a pause) Merlin's _delicate magical... situation. _Personally, Merlin found it extremely humorous from a certain perspective that Arthur was more worried about him having Magic than Merlin himself. It was almost as if Arthur was emulating Hunith, that one time when Merlin had barely scraped his knee when he'd fallen from the branches of a tree he'd used to climb and she had insisted on him seeing the village physician._ So much ado about nothing, _Merlin thought, nodding at Gawain who'd just grinned at him and winked. At least he still had his friends on his side, through thick and thin. During his short stay in the dungeon, he had been visited by several knights, all of which had reasserted their kinship with Merlin. Such devotion was touching, to say the least, and Merlin basked in it. In the village, where he had been born and raised, he had been a bit of an outcast, with only a handful of distant friends to boast. Here, though, in spite of his predicament, there were people who had much better things to do with their time (they _were _knights, after all) willing to pledge their lives for his sake.

"Good morning, people of the Court," Arthur began and, immediately, the hall fell into a hush, all heads turning to look at the King. Though Merlin knew they were waiting for further instructions from their sovereign, he couldn't help but feel that some gazes were slipping myopically to himself, and his treacherous body straightened its shoulders, sitting rigidly in its seat. Arthur himself spared him an amused split-second's glance before standing regally, his hands clenched into fists and planted onto the tabletop in an authoritative manner:

"As I am sure you all know, my spouse, my Royal Consort, Merlin Pendragon, has been revealed to be a sorcerer. He wields magic of such power we haven't seen," Merlin blushed, "and yet has remained a faithful member of this court, never giving me or any other knight any reason to doubt his allegiances. As it is, magic is prohibited in the kingdom, and Merlin submitted to a compromise, the only alternative to which would be the death penalty as instituted by the laws of Camelot. His magic has been harnessed and bound to me personally for the safety of this Kingdom. Though I firmly believe he shall never deviate from his righteous and reasonable path, _I _am the one who now holds his powers captive all for the benefit of Camelot. Any questions?"

There was a tense pause, bursting at the seams with inquiries that nobody dared make. With a timid whisper that passed over the hall, the nobility chose to remain silent, their eyes fixed perpetually on their ruler.

"_Ahem_."

"Agravaine?" Arthur asked, his gaze darting towards his uncle. The King was no fool, he knew Agravaine at the very least meant to undermine his political power with his serpentine political talk, yet, as Merlin himself had confirmed had been a good idea, he had chosen to 'keep his enemies closer.'

"My Lord, I was just wondering..." Agravaine trailed off vaguely, his slimy presence reverberating along the castle walls. Merlin shivered.

"Yes?"

"What if your... _husband_," it was definitely a dirty word in Agravaine's mind, "were to break his promise and find a way to reclaim his _magic _to see your Kingdom destroyed?"

An uncomfortable silence fell.

"Although that is very unlikely, because Merlin and I are _very _much in love with each other and the whole Kingdom of Camelot," Arthur paused to look at Merlin who hurriedly nodded in confirmation, his heart beating rapidly in his chest, "if he were ever to switch sides to that of my dear _sister_, I would not hesitate to terminate his life. Permanently."

Merlin took in a shuddering breath. For the love of Camelot. That was what it came down to, he realized, and yet he couldn't help but feel just a singly, tiny, little bit betrayed by Arthur's statement. He could not fool himself into thinking that the King was in love with him yet he had supposed that maybe, just maybe, Arthur could put him before his stupid nobility. Yet the answer stared him right in the eyes – Camelot was Arthur's first and only love, and rightfully so, and he was just a visitor in this blissful relationship the two had built all throughout Arthur's childhood and well into his adult years. He was just a supplement, he knew, yet his treacherous heart had supposed... _no_.

"And what does the Royal Consort have to say about this?" Agravaine asked, his voice so acidic it could corrode the castle walls.

Merlin glanced rapidly at his husband, searching. Arthur nodded almost imperceptibly. _Whatever you say is fine. _

"I would accept my fate then, Lord Agravaine," Merlin replied, surprisingly loudly even to himself, his voice steady. _I guess all it takes is telling the truth and believing in it, _a bitter thought crossed his mind before he quenched it down, suffocating it with the weight of the affection he felt for his King and Kingdom. "For if I were to betray my Lord and husband, and this Kingdom, which has offered me such bounty and spared my life for the unforgivable sin of magic, I would have been infested with a demon of some sort and I would choose to eradicate it by means of death from my body before it took to causing any more harm."

Silence, then–,

"But surely, Your Highness, your personal ideals go against the politics of Camelot?" Agravaine asked, his gaze darting between the knights for support. Most of them turned away, choosing not to look into the eyes of the man.

"My ideals have nothing to do with the laws of this Kingdom, Lord Agravaine. When I came here, I willfully chose to abide the laws of King Uther and his family, and to betray them again, as I have done in the face of necessity, would be unthinkable and extremely cowardly on my part. As it is, if King Arthur chooses to use my magic for his benefit and the benefit of every creature living within the bounds of this land, I shall abide his call and try, to my very utmost, to contribute to the salvation of my beloved home country," Merlin answered, startling himself with his own eloquence. He supposed it came from the numerous hours he'd spent writing Arthur's speeches back in his servant days, – not that he didn't do it now.

The knights looked as if they were watching a very interesting justing tournament, their necks straining under the back-and-forth motion of looking at each participant.

"This," Merlin paused, his hand doing up to touch the cool metal of the sapphire collar around his neck so familiarly, as if he had worn it since birth, "is a testament to my commitment. The contract can only be entered voluntarily and I have signed over my magical powers and all of my capabilities, sorcery and not, to my husband, my King, whom I hold in extremely high regard, and love dearly, with every fibre of my being."

He looked up only to see Arthur staring down at him with a confused and slightly elated expression on his face, akin to one he would get after having been hit over the head with a shield.

_What? _Merlin thought, slightly amused.

_That was... very good acting, _Arthur replied before slipping his hand down to hold Merlin's on top of the tabletop for every member of the Court to see.

_I meant it, _Merlin replied before thinking.

_Then I accept it, _Arthur answered, his gaze slipping to the curve of Merlin's smile that spread stupidly over his lips in the view of every single knight of the realm. They wrote off the sentimental lop-sided grin as a gesture of affection on the side of the King's foolish magical husband, and Merlin was all right with that because nothing mattered at that moment except for one thing: the King _accepted him_.

* * *

"That... was... _successful_."

"Shut... up."

"Can't... have to..."

"Not now... damn it!"

The panted statements made very little sense to those uttering them as their lips smashed together in hurried, fleeting lip-locks while their owners struggled to find their way across the darkened chambers and into their marital bed. Merlin was pretty sure he'd knocked over more than one candle-holder on the way, with Arthur evening out the score by crashing a suit of armor to the ground somewhere in the North wing. They had been in this dance for what felt like hours, rushed hands wandering over each others bodies, exploring every curiosity they hadn't indulged in before. While very little _of substance _had been said, Merlin felt so _deeply in synch _with Arthur as if they had just spilled their utmost secrets to each other.

Or maybe it was Arthur's tongue in his mouth.

Either way, they traipsed and treaded over pillows and garments and _oh, Guinevere's cat, _before finally falling into the luxury of the silk sheets imported from Mercia. Merlin felt hot, hot all over, as Arthur's hands left blazing trails of shameless fire up and down his chest, his tunic now somewhere between his chin and his floating ribs.

Despite their marriage having been based on lies and a very strategically planned public relations campaign, they had always had a healthy _bedroom life_, as Arthur had daintily put it once. Yet, there had been very few times on record when Merlin had felt like he couldn't _stand _the heat they shared, when it consumed him completely and utterly like a flame powered by aromatic oils. He was a fool to complain, of course, but he almost wished he could erase his own memories so that times like these would always be experienced for the first time.

"Stop... _thinking... _you're too... _loud,_" Arthur whined directly into Merlin's lips, biting the bottom one in the process and drawing a shameless moan from his Consort.

"Someone has... to... out of the two... of us," Merlin panted back, scratching up and down Arthur's back with his primp fingernails (which had gotten cleaner and longer during his time as a member of the royal family).

"Sometimes... I wonder... how I... tolerate... you," Arthur said before sinking his teeth into the skin of his collarbone.

"Because you love me," Merlin replied before promptly closing his mouth with a snap of his jaw joint. _I can't believe I just said that, _he thought to himself, his heart pounding. In a second's time, it felt like the temperature in the room had dropped twofold.

Arthur distanced himself from his husband as if he had been burnt.

"What did you just say?" He asked quietly, watching Merlin closely, his lips still wet from the kissing and the sweat the two had shared just moments before.

"I, um–,"

"Merlin, I think you misunderstood our wedding vows," Arthur said sharply. Merlin's heart gave a small twang and suddenly, the words were tumbling off his tongue without thinking:

"Or maybe you did."

There was a tense pause.

"Do you mean to say, _Mer_lin, that you expected me to fall in love with you?" Arthur asked quietly, dangerously, distantly.

"I never expected anything. I just thought–,"

"I don't even like _men, _Merlin!"

"Could have fooled me."

"_Out. Now._"


End file.
